


Trigger Finger

by GalaxyGhosty



Series: Melt You Down [1]
Category: JackSepticEye (YouTube RPF), Markiplier (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Spies & Secret Agents, M/M, Not Really Character Death, Partner Betrayal, burn victim
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-13
Updated: 2015-08-13
Packaged: 2018-04-14 13:27:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,064
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4566327
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GalaxyGhosty/pseuds/GalaxyGhosty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU. Mark's partner is dead. But then he comes back to haunt him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Trigger Finger

**Author's Note:**

> Re-upload of a drabble that I decided to turn into a mini-series. Also, the original drabble is on my tumblr account under the same name, but it's a tad different from this--this story is edited and revamped a lil from the original, given that it has a sequel now, and will have one more part. Trilogy, yay!
> 
> Part two is done, and I'll be uploading that tomorrow.
> 
> Enjoy!

Mark cocked his gun.

“Alright,” he said, loud enough for the other to hear, wherever he was hiding. His eyes scanned the area. “Let’s just make this quick and easy. Come out.”

The abandoned warehouse was a typical spot for criminals to hide, but he expected more from Septic Sam. He’d been outwitting all of the agents thus far, and causing a hell of a lot of damage to both civilians and the police—and it was always hard to find a trace of him, given that he had a habit of burning down every place he went to. Whoever he was, he knew how to pull strings and evade the police like no one’s business. He had to have some sort of inside knowledge. That could mean there was a traitor in their midst. But more importantly than that, he was _smart_. 

So the whole abandoned warehouse trick? It seemed too simple, too easy. It seemed just too… _cliche_ , for a man of his caliber. 

Jack would’ve made a comment about it. He would’ve taunted Sam mercilessly, attacking his choice of location until he was forced him to come out. He was good at getting underneath criminals’ skin, making them lose their cool. 

His heart ached. Jack…

Mark shook his head. He couldn’t think about him right now. Thinking about Jack made his head fuzzy. It caused him not to focus—made him think rashly and angrily. He missed his partner so much, though. It hurt not to have him here, to not have his Irish accent making surly retorts in his ear, to not be able to listen to his boisterous laughter, or see the glimmer in his eyes. It hurt him so much he could hardly function. The agency hadn't even wanted to send him—he was too emotional, too unstable, but Mark was their best, after all—and Sam was getting out of hand. No one else could take him. They didn't have the luxury of giving him grieving time. 

He gave himself a good slap on the cheek before shaking his head again, forcing any thoughts of his partner out of his mind. He sucked in a deep breath and listened for the slightest footstep, and when he heard the scuff of a sole on the ground behind him, he turned sharply—gun aimed at the newcomer’s head.

He knew it was Sam. He didn’t know how, but it had to be. The man’s face was only partially illuminated—the rest of his face covered by shadow and a mask, which glinted in the moonlight. Mark said, “You’re under arrest.”

“Don’t I know it,” Sam cooed, a slight lilt to his voice. He could feel him smiling, somehow, just in the way that he spoke. “I knew if I caused enough ruckus, you’d come to me. You always do, Mark. Well…perhaps not always.” 

Mark narrowed his gaze. “What are you on about?”

Sam laughed, his voice shrill as he tossed his head back. “How silly of me. Of course you don’t recognize me. Pity. You should. I would know you by the sound of your footsteps along a dirt road, by the sound of your breathing in the still of the night. But I guess you didn’t love me all that much, did you?”

The criminal took off his mask, and Mark resisted the urge to wince on instinct. Sam’s face was horribly scarred—must have been why he wore the mask—with what appeared to be burn marks. They crawled up his neck and along his face, and one eye was squinted slightly—obviously scarred shut. Mark trailed his gaze up his face, and met his eyes, and his heart seized in his chest. He felt cold. 

No. No.

He recognized those eyes anywhere. It couldn’t be, though. He was…he was dead. 

_No._

“Recognize me now?” Sam hissed, gritting his teeth. “After all, you’re the one who made me like this.”

“I…I didn’t know…I…” Mark couldn’t get the words out. “No…you can’t be…I…”

Sam chuckled darkly. “But it is! It is me and you left me, Mark. You left me to die. I thought I could trust you. I thought we were _partners_. I thought we were more. But apparently not.”

“I thought you were dead,” Mark whispered. “If I…if I had known…I would’ve…oh God, I would’ve…”

Sam shouted, “Shut _up_! You _left_ me! I have spent months _hating_ you for what you did. I trusted you so much, Mark. And I would have _died_ for you, but not like that. Not when you didn’t even _care_.”

“I did care,” Mark tried. “I cared so much. I swear, if I had known…I’ve been such a mess. I’ve missed you so much…I swear…”

Sam stared for a moment, as if mulling over his words, his face blank, but then his glare returned. “It doesn’t matter. Your words mean _nothing_ to me. Not anymore. I knew that if I raised enough hell, the agency would send you. It was only a matter of time. You and I were their best. Wasn't one without the other, until now. If I was out of the picture, only right to send you. You could take out Sam no sweat, I bet they thought. Look at you now.”

Mark couldn't speak. His throat felt like it was closing, swollen shut. Tears pricked at his eyes as he gripped the handle of the gun tighter, until his knuckles were white. “No—no...please you have to believe me...”

Sam scoffed, withdrawing a gun from his belt. He aimed it at him. There were scars twisting around his hands, as well. “Shoot me, Mark. Or I’m going to kill you. You killed me once. Shouldn’t hurt to do it again, should it?”

Mark’s hand trembled, lowering his gun. “No…I…I can't...I could never...”

The criminal snickered. “What’s wrong? This old face hurting you? Imagine how much I hurt when I realized the love of my life _wasn’t_ coming to save me.”

Sam's voice cracked, which caused Mark to let go of the gun completely, breaking him. It clattered to the ground as he reached out gingerly to his lost lover, hoping, praying he would listen to reason. “Jack… _please_ …” 

But Jack didn’t listen. He cocked his own gun and slowly squeezed the trigger.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and Kudos are always appreciated!


End file.
